Introduction by JL.Com: The day prior to the first Brixton show, Mr Rotten took on the media (and the smoke police) at a press conference for the UK launch of 'Guitar Hero III'. Sex-Pistols.Net (aka God Save The Sex Pistols) & JohnLydon.Com websites were present (in one shape or another).

'Holidays in the Sun' might have a Berlin Wall, but this press conference had a garden fence (no, really). John & Rambo brought 'God Save The Sex Pistols' over the garden fence. As Mr Rotten once said, 'Back Your Allies'.

The following transcription and article from the press conference marks the first time both sites have worked together. Now we got a reason.

Phil: Hoxton Square Bar in Shoreditch, London, 7th November 2007. Invited media had been summoned to witness the press conference to launch both Guitar Hero 3 & the Pistols gigs, the first of which was due the following night. John Lydon, Steve Jones & Glen Matlock were present at the venue early evening while TV crews filmed interviews, including the clips seen later that evening on ITV London & Channel 4.

It was a warm night, but things were about to get a lot hotter. After Steve and Glen departed the scene, the TV crews and journalists jostled for position, eagerly waiting for John to take the stage. What they didn't anticipate was one of John's most explosive performances ever. Those expecting a mellower Mr Rotten were in for a shock. Those hoping to take him on and claim their own little trophy were in for an even greater shock. One such wannabe from the NME, no doubt hoping to impress his peers, was left in no doubt whose press conference this was. He would soon respond with an incoherent bumbling performance on Sky News the following Saturday, and a demolition of the band in his own paper. But more of the conference itself later.

(JL.Com: The chap from the NME was the epitome of the kind of chip-on-the-shoulder journalist John talks about at the press conference. He'd already made his mind up long before he got there. His pre-planned agenda stood out like a sore thumb; and so did he. Don't get it now, and wouldn't have got it then. He'd have been more suited to Genesis than the Sex Pistols.)

It had been a mad couple of months leading up to this point. Vinyl re-releases, gig announcements, breaking news; all seemingly non-stop, without time to pause and take a breath. Over the years I'd built such a great relationship with Glen, Steve, and Paul, yet Mr Rotten had remained elusive. I'd wondered why, at a time like this, I hadn't worked closer with JohnLydon.com. It felt at times as though we were on opposite sides of the same fence, close to one another, yet just out of reach.

After the stuffiness of the conference, stepping outside the bar into the night air seemed to make perfect sense. Chatting with my friend Ray about what we had just witnessed, we found ourselves next to a low fence surrounding a patio area which had been commandeered for the guests, namely Mr Rotten and his friend and manager, Rambo (JL.Com : Friend, manager, conscientious objector, and occasional hairdresser).

Within seconds, introductions were made. Rambo shot me a foreboding look and said without hesitation, "Our sites should be working together." He paused momentarily to check he was taking to task the right person. "You're Phil, the Man City fan?" "Yes" I responded as the temperature rose by a few more degrees, "If you've any problems with God Save The Sex Pistols , blame me. It's all my work." I felt both Rambo and Mr Rotten fix me with stares. I leant on the fence for support, and the temperature rose again. Then I realised, I was now directly under the patio heater and it was roasting me alive. Holidays In The Sun 2007! It seemed somehow fitting I should be experiencing a heat wave at such a time, and in such bizarre circumstances. It could only be the Sex Pistols.

"You're the wordsmith?" enquired Mr Rotten. It was now or never, I had to go for broke: "That's right. I do it out of a love of the band. I work on it every night when I get home from work, and at weekends!"

Mr Rotten now had me firmly in his sights; how would he respond? "God bless ya." Now that was a relief! Rambo approached the fence, "We're both working towards the same thing, the sites need to liaise with one another," he added. I understood exactly what he was saying. It made perfect sense. We talked some more. Hands were shaken over the fence. "I'm glad we've broken the ice" Rambo added. I felt the same way and said so. It seems we weren't that far apart after all.

The patio heater was starting to burn my skin by this point and I needed to cool down. As if to answer my prayers, words were exchanged between Mr Rotten and Rambo, then I heard the invitation that saved my life: "C'mon over the fence and join us."

Now I've got a reason, it IS a real reason, to go over the garden fence. Holidays In The Sun 2007!

The fence was climbed. The barriers were gone. We were both on the same side.

It was all falling so perfectly into place. The drinks arrived. Sixty minutes later, Air New Zealand, man's destruction of nature, and numerous other topics had been discussed. The Sex Pistols had been put briefly to one side, until a car arrived to collect Mr Rotten and Rambo. "I've got a show to do tomorrow, I'd better go!" remarked John. More handshakes, a photograph, and it was over. There is nothing so important in life than meeting people face to face. And when you get on so well, it turns that meeting into something special. This really was a special night.

Postscript: ten days later in Manchester, I was chatting with Rambo. Along came Mr Rotten with a smile on his face to give me a hug. "You're more podgy than I remembered!" he said. I knew then I'd regained the weight I'd lost under the glare of the patio heater. I also knew I was in the company of friends. What an incredible journey it had been during that time. Thank you to both Rambo and Mr Rotten for making me so welcome.